


You Promised

by Poohzhunny



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Best Friends, Childhood Friends, F/M, Gen, long lost friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-06-22 07:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19662949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poohzhunny/pseuds/Poohzhunny
Summary: Cullen receives a letter that makes him reminisce to his childhood best friend.





	1. You Promised

Cullen read the letter again to make sure he hadn’t imagined the words. His sister Mia had sent one of her many missives to Skyhold, and though most went unanswered, this one gave him pause.

_Cullen,_

_You won’t believe who we ran into in South Reach! I thought I was imagining things, but it was her. Rowan. By all accounts, we thought she had perished along with her family at the farm when the Darkspawn came, so imagine my surprise when she ran up to me in the middle of the market. “Mia?!” She hugged me she was so happy to see Branson and I. We gave her news of you, of course, and she asked a thousand questions. I promised I wouldn’t say too much in this letter, she wants to tell you everything herself, but she did say you promised to write and that she’d wait in South Reach. Don’t keep her waiting too long, brother._

_-Mia_

He set down the scroll, his eyes fading as he remembered their last days together.

* * *

Cullen ran, fast as he could, trying to hide himself in the wheat field. He could hear her behind him, giggling madly, her feet hitting the ground to catch up to him. She’d always been fast, and even just a summer ago, she would have been able to catch up to him. He’d grown up too much in the past year however, and his legs took him further each stride. He couldn’t help a broad smile as he pushed through the crop, bursting out at the end of the field and down the hill toward the tree. Their tree.

He stopped underneath the branches, his breath ragged in his chest, his heart pounding in his temples, his face flushed, but lighter than he’d ever felt. He closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun. Too late, he heard the steps coming upon him. “Oof!” He was tackled from behind, tumbling down to the dirt hard, face first. He rolled over onto his back with a groan. “Rowan, that hurt.” He sat up to get a better look at her, bent at the waist, hands on her knees as she laughed.

“Yes, well, I had to get that smug grin off your face.” She kicked the dirt in front of him, sending it flying onto his pants before leaning forward, a hand extended to help him up. He took the offering, clasping her around the forearm. She braced herself to take his weight but her eyes widened when his smirk returned in full. He tugged hard, pulling her completely off balance and she squealed in surprise, landing on top of him. He laughed as she snort-giggled, a sound he knew she always felt so self-conscious about but couldn’t help, and shesmacked his shoulder before rolling away and dusting herself off. She eyed him, still on the ground. “You’re on your own, Rutherford.” He got up to his feet, still smiling. “What did you want to talk about, Cullen? Ooh, I know! Your father is switching to barley. The scandal!”

He’d known Rowan as long as he could remember. Her parents were neighbours and the two families often helped each other. They’d become fast friends, only a year apart, and had grown up together, working on their family farms, dreaming of the greater world. She often complained about how everything in Honnleath was boring yet the smallest things would send the community in an uproar.

He took her hand, walking toward the pond, his other hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Her expression changed, mirth turning to concern.

“Cullen, what is it?”

“I’ve been accepted for Templar training, Rowan.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded. “My parents agreed. I’m leaving in two days.” He hadn’t thought the news would go over well, but he hadn’t been prepared for the blank look that fell on her face. Always so animated, her features generally swerved between mirth or mischief, with rare bouts of thoughtfulness. To see her void of any emotion was like staring at a stranger, he thought.

Finally, her brow furrowed and a slow grimace formed on her lips. She punched his shoulder, hard. “What the fuck, Cullen!” He recoiled at the curse, the first he’d ever heard from her mouth, all the more powerful for the force with which she’d uttered it.

He rubbed the site of the blow. “Rowan, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.” She punched him again, harder this time, and when he simply stared back in puzzlement, a third time. “Ow! Stop it!” For a moment, she looked as though she might hit him again but instead her hands flew up into the air and she let out a cry of anger. She covered her face and turned away from him, her shoulders hunched. When she looked at him again, her eyes shone with threatening tears, their pale colour a stark contrast to the red rims. “You know I’ve been asking the Templars at the Chantry for this.”

Her body relaxed, slumped rather, the first tear sliding down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, nodding. “I just... I guess I didn’t think it would happen. Just a dream, you know?” She looked over at the pond for a time, her fingers fiddling with her sleeves. “Do you know how much I’m going to miss you?” She wiped her eyes again, her face still turned to the horizon.

His throat was beginning to clench. She was his best friend. He’d been so excited at the thought of finally being given a chance to become a Templar he hadn’t considered how much he’d miss her. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “I’ll write. If I can, I’ll visit.”

She gazed into his eyes and he suddenly couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. For the first time, he realized how pretty she was, her cheeks full of freckles from the sun and her pale hazel eyes. “You promise?”

He swallowed, nodding. “Branson promised to stop pestering you. Mia said she’d make sure he did since I won’t be around to smarten him up.”

She snorted again. “I can take care of myself.” She pulled herself away from his hand, a sudden look of determination on her face. He knew that look. It was the same look she had when she needed to do something she didn’t want to. Her family raised animals. She hated butchering time, but every time she had to leave him to help her father with the chore, she would get the same expression on her face. “I have to go.” She turned and left him, vanishing into the nearby copse of trees before he could muster the strength to say anything.

He stood by the pond for some time, hoping she might come back, but after a few hours, he returned home. It was almost supper time, and his mother fussed in the kitchen. She smiled, a little sadly when he looked at him. “How did it go with Rowan?” He shrugged, picking up a knife to help her peel vegetables, his eyes downcast. She pulled his head to her to kiss his forehead, her hand caressing his curls before he could pull away from the motherly affection lest his brother and sisters witness the event. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll feel better about it in the morning.”

But she didn’t. She didn’t come to help him with his chores as she always did, and when he tried to see her, her sister told him that she’d been gone all day, her parents were furious. Her father had come out to ask where she might be hiding, but Cullen had already checked their usual haunts to no avail. Sir Thrain was a kind but stern man. “She was upset yesterday. What happened?” As his eldest child, Rowan was expected to help with a multitude to chores on the farm. Cullen couldn’t help but shudder at the scolding she would receive when she came home. Cullen explained his situation, somewhat reassured to see her father’s expression soften. The man crossed his arms as he listened. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing a multitude of scars over the worn, sun-kissed skin. He grunted, patting him on the shoulder. “Ah, I see. Well, best of luck to you, son. I suspect she’ll turn up on her own when she’s ready. Go on home, now.”

He did as he was bidden, turning his attention to his chores until his parents called him in to sleep. His mother squeezed his arm as he passed, reminding him to pack his things for the following day. They would be leaving for the Chantry early in the morning. He dreaded to think he might leave without saying a proper goodbye to Rowan, and the thought kept him awake for some time before the day’s exhaustion caught up with him.

Dawn came too quickly. His mother woke him and he dressed in a fog, washing his face before sitting down for breakfast with his family one last time. The table was quiet, his brother and sisters still groggy. His father left the meal early to prepare the cart and their mare to travel to Honnleath. Cullen was helping with the dishes when a knock at the window almost made him jump out of his skin. On the other side of the glass, Rowan waited for him. His mother waived him off with a knowing smile and he skittered outside where she waited by the well, a little ways from the house.

Rowan looked down at her feet as he approached but her eyes found his once he was close. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you before I left,” he said. To his surprise, she rushed forward, pulling him into a fierce hug, her fingers clutching at his shirt as though they’d never let go and, for a brief moment, he almost reconsidered everything.

Her face buried into his shoulder, she sniffled and he felt her sobs against his chest. “You promise you’ll write? At least once a week?” He nodded. He couldn’t have said anything if he’d tried. She took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled away, her hands still holding onto his sleeves. “Take care of yourself, Cullen. I’m going to miss you, but I’m happy at least one of us gets to see their dream come true.” She ran off and away before he could so much as utter a word, the warm of her fading from his chest quickly in the morning chill.

* * *

Cullen took a sip of his wine, his eyes staring off into the distance. What might his life have been like if he’d stayed in Honnleath? His dream had turned to dust and he’d had to rebuild it from the ashes as best he could. After everything, could he reach out to the past? Rowan had known a very different Cullen. What would she think of him? He could almost hear her giggle and slap his shoulder, something she always did to spur him forward when he hesitated, and he smiled at the memory.

He picked up his quill, dipped it into the ink and began to write. He’d promised, after all.


	2. Hopes and Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen sends a letter to Rowan in response, and considers travelling to South Reach for a long overdue visit.

Cullen set his pen down an read the letter over. Though he wasn’t satisfied with it, it would have to do.

_Rowan,_

_Does Mia tell it true? Is it truly you? The Fifth Blight brought much chaos along with it, and the Circle of Kinnloch Hold was not spared, though for once, Darkspawn were not to blame. When I heard of the events in Honnleath, I feared I had lost everything I loved between my family and you. I admit in my grief, I sought no further word of either their, or your whereabouts for fear it would only confirm what I dreaded most. The following years were no kinder. I’m certain Mia has spared you no details of my lack of correspondence to her._

_A letter seems a poor vessel to convey so many years of one’s life. Perhaps a visit is finally in order. With the Inquisition’s victory against Corypheus, my duties are much easier to manage. I’ll see if I can make arrangements. Might you remain in South Reach long enough for me to travel there?_

_-Cullen_

He took the scroll and placed it in a casing before heading to the rookery. “You? Writing to someone?” Leliana arched her brow, her curiosity evident as she leaned against a pillar, watching him attach the message to bird to be delivered to South Reach. He didn’t know how much he wanted to share with the Spymaster, but he supposed she would find out eventually.

“An old childhood friend resurfaced. I thought she’d perished during the destruction of Honnleath.” His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck.

No discernible expression crossed the woman’s face that he could decipher. If she meant to make anything of this, she would do it without his knowledge. “Now might be a good time to visit your siblings, no? Josephine and I could handle anything Rylen is unable to tend to.”

“Perhaps. I’ll think on it, thank you.”

“Of course.” He turned and left, ignoring the knowing smile on her lips. He took the stairs of the tower slowly, aware of her eyes on him. As he entered his quarters, he picked up the newest reports on his desk, but his mind wandered and he couldn’t focus on the words. Would she reply? What would she say? Where had she been all this time? For the first time since he’d left for Templar training so many years ago, he yearned to reach out to someone from his past. He was always grateful for his sister’s letters. They’d kept him sane in the years after Uldred’s revolt, and anchored him further during his time in Kirkwall. He trembled to think of who he might be if it hadn’t been for her determined efforts to remain a part of his life.

Yet, for a long time, he hadn’t felt he deserved it. He’d made little to no effort to stay in touch himself before, but things were changing. He lay the reports back down on his desk and headed for the ramparts. The mountains never failed to bring him some peace when he needed it most. He turned his face toward the setting sun, closing his eyes and breathing in the air.

“You thought she was dead. That’s why I couldn’t see her.” The voice startled him out of his reverie. He looked at Cole, the spirit, or boy, he hardly knew which anymore. Though he’d grown accustomed to his presence, and more so his habit to seemingly appear out of thin air, he had the unsettling ability to feel others’ emotions and memories. Over the past years, he’d dredged up painful recollections. He wasn’t certain he wanted to know what might come from his visit now.

“Cole, I...”

“She’s looking up at the sky too. Wonders, wishes and waits. She’s changed. That scares her.” He spoke with his head down, his great hat hiding his features, his hands wringing together. “You’ve changed too.”

Cullen sighed. “Yes.”

“The freckles on her nose, like flecks of gold on silk. Her eyes dance when she laughs, and...”

“Stop, Cole. Please.”

“I’m sorry.” He waited a moment before speaking. “You should go see her. She misses you.”

He looked away to the mountains again. “The young boy she misses isn’t who I am anymore.”

“He’s still a part of you. You just haven’t thought about him in a long time.”

He pondered those words for a long time. When he turned to say something, however, Cole had left. He was alone. His thoughts wandered to his first training weeks at Kinnloch Hold. At thirteen, he was behind on most recruits who were brought into the fold at younger ages. Though he applied himself every day, he struggled to catch up. The classroom education especially daunted him. He’d never been good at letters and opportunities to read and practice were few and far between on a farm. He’d written Rowan a letter, he remembered, his frustrations slipping onto the parchment.

Her response had come a week or so later. He recognized his sister’s handwriting. He’d taught Rowan what little she knew of the alphabet, just enough to read and write. If she answered him more than a few sentences, she would ask Mia for help.

_Cullen,_

_I know it must be hard to learn everything, and Maker knows I don’t know what I would do in your place, but remember two things:_

_This is what you’ve been dreaming of since you were a child. It’s up to you to make your dreams come true. Why should it be easy??_

_If you fail, you can always come back to the farm. I know that thought won’t make you happy, but there it is._

_So stop complaining and get to work. I know you. I know you’re doing better than you think. Keep at it, you’ll be great!_

_Miss you,_

_-Rowan_

She’d written the last sentence and signed the letter herself. Her words had spurred him onward. At times, the thought of what she would say if he ever returned to the farm after failing Templar training was all that kept him from giving up on his dream. And he’d succeeded. He’d taken his first draught of lyrium eager to write to her and tell her everything, excited to receive her response. Except he hadn’t been the same after that. It changed you, from the inside out. He’d been assigned his first official duties at the tower and only remembered a few weeks later to write. Time between his letters grew though her responses never faltered.

Cullen returned to his tower, climbing up to his loft to open his personal trunk. He dug down to the bottom, eventually finding a letter, flattened and yellow with time. This was the last letter he’d ever received from her, only a few months before the Blight fell on Ferelden. Her writing skills had improved over the years. This letter had been in her own, hesitant penmanship.

_Cullen,_

_I had a dream about you. A bad one. I can’t shake it so I’m writing sooner than usual. I hope you’re well and the mages aren’t being too hard on you. From your last letter, it sounds like some of them are nice._

_Your letters are all that remind me there’s a world outside of Honnleath. Please let me know you’re alright?_

_-R._

More than once he’d wondered about this dream of hers, considering what happened next. Uldred had taken over the tower shortly after he’d received the letter. He’d never had the chance to answer back. To tell her how much he missed her at times. His world had shattered around him. He’d lost himself. After the Hero of Ferelden ended the Blight with her sacrifice, news from Honnleath had devastated him even further. Kirkwall had seemed like a fresh start and he’d accepted the transfer gladly when it came, leaving his country without a look back. He placed the letter back in the folder and closed back the trunk. He’d almost forgotten he had kept it.

He found Knight-Captain Rylen in the Herald’s Rest enjoying a drink, relieved for the day. “Commander!” He called, waving him to sit with him. Cullen nodded for him to follow him outside instead.

“I need you to relieve me in a few days. I’ll be travelling to visit my family in South Reach.”

The Starkhaven man smiled broadly, his tattoos moving along with the expression. “Finally,” he said. “I mean, of course, sir.”

“Thank you. Leliana and Josephine will help with anything you need. Good night, Rylen.”

“‘Night Commander.”

He would inform Leliana and Josephine in the morning. For now, he had preparations to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone following along, I cannot express enough gratitude for the interest in my drabbles! I’m not sure where this story is going, but hopefully somewhere interesting :)


	3. Bittersweet Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen receives a response and makes final preparations for his departure after catching up with his colleagues.

Two days later, he returned from his meeting with the other advisors to find a casing on his desk. He opened it, aware that his breath had shortened in anticipation. He was surprised to hear back so soon, but perhaps the winds had been kind to the messenger birds.

_Cullen,_

_I believe your sister may tie me to a chair for the next fortnight if my remaining here will bring you to visit her._

He smiled at the curt opening. She’d always been to the point, and though her grammar and vocabulary had refined over the years, he recognized her style immediately.

_I will wait in South Reach, though I caution you to stop by Mia’s first or she will be sorely disappointed and you and I will never hear the end of it._

A messenger entered his quarters then, about to read off the latest report but Cullen raised a hand with a withering look. “Not now, Jim.” The man stared at the papers, back to the Commander and again before edging back to the door, leaving without a word. He’d apologize later. Or not. The man should learn to knock.

_As you said, a letter isn’t enough to recite a lifetime. I remember the last time I saw you. I wonder how much you’ve changed? As much as I have? I admit I’m a little scared, but also immensely happy to read your words again._

_Travel safe,_

_-Rowan_

He folded the letter and slid it inside his frock for now. He’d already made his preparations. He’d been waiting for a reply before leaving, or perhaps stalling a little, but it was time, he knew. He took the stairs down to see the horse master and let him know he’d need his horse ready by morning. The man didn’t ask questions but his look of surprise was plain enough to see. Cullen wouldn’t wait for questions, however, and headed to the Ambassador’s office.

Josephine worked, as usual, bent over her desk, writing furiously with her quill to Maker-knows-what noble of the moment. Always pleasant, he knew she could be a force to reckon with armed with her ink. She looked up when he entered, her pen still scribbling somehow, the skill of it bordering on magic, he thought. “Ah, Commander. You’ll be leaving in the morning, I assume?”

He couldn’t help but smile. Of course the Ambassador would have heard he’d received a missive from South Reach. “Yes, lady Ambassador. Is there anything you need of me before I do?”

She shook her head. “No, everything will be taken care of in your absence, Commander, rest assured. I’m pleased to see you taking time for your family. Do give my best to your sister. I do enjoy our correspondences. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She nodded kindly before returning her attention to her work. He was dismissed. He shouldn’t be surprised that his sister had been reaching out to other members of the Inquisition for news of him, but the revelation rankled regardless, though he knew he had only himself to blame.

The Spymaster walked past him on her way to see Josephine as he left the room, her mysterious smile at the ready. “Travel safely, Commander. Would you be so kind as to bring me back some Fereldan shortbread should you find any?”

“Of course, Leliana.” He couldn’t help his low giggle as he left the women to their work, all too pleased with themselves. He knew Rylen could handle himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure he’d done an adequate job of preparing his Knight-Captain for the two Advisors and their wiles.

Inquisitor Adaar fell in stride next to him as he made his way down the main hall of Skyhold. “So,” he said, eyeing him from the side, his deep voice resonating on the stone walls, “I hear you’ll be leaving in the morning?”

He managed to withhold an exasperated sigh at how quickly news had spread. “Yes, Inquisitor. Is there anything you needed before I do?”

“Only to know who this childhood friend might be for you to finally visit your family?”

He rubbed his eyes in frustration. Nothing ever remained private among the inner circle of the Inquisitor, he knew, but he’d hoped despite everything they might at least pretend to be discreet. “We grew up together. She was only a year younger than I.”

“Ah, young love.”

“No,” he answered, perhaps too quickly considering the twinkle in the Qunari’s eye now. “Well, not in the way you imply. We were the best of friends when I left to join the Order. She’s the reason I joined, actually, though she would have hated hearing it.”

“Really? How so?”

“Her father was... a stern man.” He stretched his neck and shoulders as he walked, slightly uncomfortable at sharing such details now that he’d started. The Inquisitor always did have a way to make people talk. “And she was willful, always, not that it excused anything. She stood up to him no matter what it cost her. Some mornings, the bruises on her skin would infuriate me but as a child the man terrified me. I suppose I wanted to protect others from whatever darkness I could.”

The Tal-Vashoth turned to him fully at the door to the rotunda, laying his great paw on his shoulder, a rare sorrowful expression on his handsome features. “Bittersweet memories. Perhaps you’ll introduce us one day? Travel well, Cullen. Send everyone my regards. Your sister Mia, especially. Do thank her for the threatening letters on your behalf.” He winked before leaving toward the gardens. The Inquisitor had a tendency to sarcasm and his sense of humour was renowned among the troops and staff. There was no way of telling whether his last comment had been truth or jest but Cullen flinched at the possibility, however absurd.

As he cleared his desk for the day, he couldn’t help but wonder where his friend might have been all this time. She’d been a capable young lass, strong physically from the work she did on a daily basis, but also determined and resourceful. Despite that, surviving a horde of Darkspawn without arms training of any kind - beyond the knife she used for butchering - couldn’t have been easy. She’d mentioned she’d changed. He supposed that was inevitable for anyone thrown into the events of the Fifth Blight, but had she changed to the extent he had? He supposed he’d find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I’ve been chain listening to Strawberry Wine while writing these chapters... so if things are sappy, now you know why. #GuiltyPleasureSongs


	4. Night Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen leaves Skyhold to begin his journey through the mountain pass.

Dawn arrived quickly, but as sleep tended to elude him, he’d been awake and ready for some time. He took his saddle bags down with him to the stables, finding Master Dennet already waiting for him. The weather would be clement enough, he didn’t need much gear to travel but enough to keep him out of the rain if he needed it, and enough food to last him until Redcliffe where he could restock. His horse, a touch fat and chomping at the bit for exercise after weeks in Skyhold, waited patiently enough. “I didn’t work him too much yesterday since he’ll be needing the energy to get through the mountains. Just enough to take the edge off.”

“Thank you, Master Dennet.”

“Safe travels to you,” he said, letting go of the bridle once Cullen had mounted up. An impressive beast at seventeen hands high, the Commander was glad his legs were as long as they were or he’d have required help to get on each time. He took the horse up the path to the gates at a slow walk, gauging the animal’s mood and establishing leadership once again. He waved quietly to the guards at the gate and passed underneath the great arch, crossing the bridge at the same gait before clearing the second arch moments later.

This was the first time he’d ever left Skyhold for personal matters since they’d first arrived. As the moments passed, the feeling of dread he felt at leaving his duties behind to someone began to lessen, just enough for him to enjoy the fresh air and the views around him. After their initial, desperate escape through the mountain pass from Haven when Corypheus had destroyed the small village, they’d eventually located a better route through the Frostbacks from the fortress. He took this one now, aware there was still enough snow at this altitude to be mindful of the horse’s steps lest they find themselves in a predicament. The animal was sure-footed, but cautious, however, and Cullen was confident they would clear the snows without incident.

His mind eventually stopped going through all of the reports or reviewing troop movements. His shoulders relaxed, letting go of tension that had lingered there for over a decade one notch at a time. The sun warmed his skin until even his frown dissipated. He took note of the creaking of the saddle underneath him, the feel of the animal between his legs and the light pull on the reins as he held them between his fingers, the light smell of horse soothing to him, and he gave the boy a good pat on the neck. The big bay let out a good breath in relaxation, pleased to be acknowledged and taking cue from his rider.

It would take a little over a day and a half if all went well for him to leave the mountains, going North out of Skyhold and toward Ghelen’s Pass. From there, he would find the Imperial Highway, and head South to Redcliffe. He wasn’t certain whether going North might be faster, but as this would have brought him within seeing distance of Kinnloch Hold, he elected to go in the other direction instead. He had no need or desire to view the Tower ever again if he could help it. He would send a letter to his sister from Redcliffe to let her know when to expect him once the most treacherous part of the journey was behind him.

He’d learned to ride at a young age on his father’s mare. The animal had been a patient sitter, not the rather spirited stallion he rode now, but he’d been fond of climbing on her back and learning everything he could, despite the multitude of falls and bruises that came with it. He’d shown Rowan, keeping her steady in front of him as she learned balance. She’d been terrified the first time, certain she would fall to her death any moment without a saddle and nothing but a cord around the horse’s neck to use as ‘bridle’. After riding behind her on several occasions, he’d eventually told her to get up and ride on her own.

How old had they been then? Eight? He smiled at the memory. She’d looked up at him in horror but had gotten on with her resolute look. Of course, the horse had spooked at something the moment she’d been seated and taken off at a gallop with her clinging for dear life, her eyes bigger than dinner plates. She’d slipped off after a few strides and fallen to the ground, narrowly missing the horse’s back hooves as they passed, landing with a hard thump, her left arm broken with the impact. She’d gotten to her feet, the pain visible on her face, but quiet despite tears streaming down her cheeks. His father had scolded him of course, and he’d been sent to take on Rowan’s chores for the next few weeks while she healed, though she still worked as much as she could with her good hand.

“It was an accident,” she’d say whenever he apologized. “She spooked. It could have happened any other time, Cullen.” It hadn’t helped lessen his guilt over the harm he’d caused her, and when she’d insisted to get back on by herself weeks later, at first he’d refused.

“I don’t want you to get hurt again”, he’d protested.

“You can’t stop that, Cullen. Just hold her.” And he had. She’d stepped on the fence and gotten on, climbing over the mare’s back and settling down. She’d taken some time to breathe and caress the animal before waving at him. “Ok, let go.” He had, though reticent, and she’d squeezed the mare’s flanks lightly with her calves as he’d taught her to get to move forward. The horse had listened and moved on, and before long, she’d been trotting around the pasture, giggling madly as the wind swept through her short cropped curls and he’d laughed at the sight. They practiced riding often, still riding double whenever they wanted to go somewhere if time allowed. Eventually, when it became clear that they were becoming accomplished young riders, their parents had given up trying to stop them.

By the time he set up camp that night, he felt much better about the trip. He fed the horse his hay since grass was still too scarce at their altitude and prepared his bedroll in front of the meagre fire he’d been able to build with whatever wood scrounged from the area. As he lay down his head, looking up at the stars, he sighed. Without work to focus on, his thoughts wandered to the future, the past, and the present. He dreaded some of the painful memories that would likely surface, but found he looked forward to what may come. He’d never met his nephew and hadn’t seen his siblings since he was a teenager. The visit would surely prove to be interesting.

Before long, his eyes began to droop and he abandoned himself to sleep.

He awoke to movement at his window. Inch by inch, it slid open, letting in the night’s chill and making the curtains billow. With no moon, he couldn’t see into the night and he didn’t dare sit up to see what monster might be lurking in the shadows to drag him outside and eat him. The wind shrieked through the willow branches and they grated against the house. Movement at the windowsill made his eyes bulge in fear. He wanted to call out to his parents, soundly asleep down the hall, but fear gripped his throat, his eight year old little body stiff in terror.

“Cullen, help me in!” He blinked in surprise at Rowan’s whispered plea before crawling up his bed to lean over the window. She stared up at him, wide-eyed with her arm raised. “Come on!”

He took her hand and pulled while she used her feet to climb up the wall and over the ledge. “Rowan, what are you doing?” It wasn’t until she was inside that he noticed the smart red mark on her cheek and the tears in her eyes.

“Can I sleep here? I’ll go before your mom comes in. I had nightmares.” He pulled down the blanket and made room for her. She snuggled into a corner of his pillow and he settled next to her. “You’ll wake me if they come back?” He nodded. “Promise?” He nodded again and she closed her eyes.

Cullen woke to the sunrise, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He’d forgotten. As years passed, she had come less and less, but always trusted him to wake her from her night terrors when they struck. He’d eventually grown wise enough to realize where the bad dreams came from, yet her visits were the only help she’d ever asked from him and he’d never failed her.

Until he had left for the Circle. Left her alone. “I can take care of myself,” she’d said, but once he’d gone, who did she turn to in the night, pale as a sheet, tears streaming down her face, the fat lip or bruise still vibrant on her skin? He sat up and began to pack up his camp, trying to set his thoughts to happier times.


	5. Turnip Stew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen nears Redcliffe, where the inn and a bowl of turnip stew awaits.

After days of travelling the roads alone, it felt good to see the walls of Redcliffe come into view. Villagers, farmers, and even Inquisition soldiers or scouts saluted or waved as he passed. He returned the courtesy amiably enough but continued on his way, eager to find the inn and a proper hot meal. He recalled they served an excellent turnip stew and he found himself pushing his horse to a faster gait in anticipation. Josephine would have commented on how simple Fereldan tastes were if he’d admitted that it was a favourite of his to her, he knew, but he himself would never understand why food had to be complicated. In agreement, his horse tossed his head with a snort and he gave him a pat on the neck. “Yes, boy, I’m certain you look forward to be rid of me of the day as well.”

He proceeded down the streets of the city until he reached his destination. He handed the bridle to the stablehand, requesting that he receive a good brushing and to check for any issues with his hooves. Things had changed in Redcliffe, as he supposed they would after surviving a Blight, a roving band of Darkspawn and the tragedies that had befallen the Arl and his son during that time. He’d only been to Redcliffe once as a youngster, a trip he’d taken with his father. At the time, it had seemed like such a long journey. A full day’s travel, it had been the furthest from home he’d ever been. They’d spent the night at the inn to return home the next day with the supplies.

Rowan had come running across the field on their return, he thought eager to hear details of the City but she’d hugged him instead, in front of everyone. His brother and sisters had teased him endlessly over the affair, but only whenever Rowan wasn’t present, never keen to spark her temper. Though it seldom flared, it burnt white hot when it did, something Branson had found out the hard way. Earlier that Summer, Rowan had come to his farm to help as she always did, her long mess of waves and curls cut short around her head. Cullen suspected her father had done it to rid their mother of the task of brushing it each day, and the rushed, rough strokes of a blade could be seen through the clumps. He’d known his friend better than to mention it. Of course, she hated it, it had bordered on the grotesque. Compounded by the suddenness of the change, he and his three siblings had gaped in horror at the sight.

But only Branson had dared speak of it. He’d called her a Witch of the Wilds, pointing and laughing until she’d launched herself at him with a snarl. She’d kicked and punched until Cullen intervened, pulling her off of him. She’d managed to give him a black eye and several bruises but, despite his tears, no real injuries. She’d squirmed out of his grip and ran home and hadn’t returned for days.

He entered the inn and requested a room and a bath be drawn before sitting down for a meal. “Commander Cullen.” He turned toward the voice, finding Scout Lace Harding, one of Leliana’s agents smiling at him. He’d always found her efficient, professional and pleasant in his dealings with her and had great admiration for what she’d accomplished for the Inquisition. For a moment, however, he thought perhaps some emergency would call him back to Skyhold before he’d even reached his destination.

“Scout Harding, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Oh no, Sister Leliana sent word ahead of you. Said you might need to send a message? I wasn’t sure exactly what day you’d arrive. The forward camps let me know when you passed so, here I am. I’ll be back in the morning for your message?”

“Thank you.” He hesitated before continuing. “Would you like to stay for a meal?”

About to leave, the Dwarf began to wring her hands, a grin growing on her lips. “Well, I admit it’s been a while since I had the turnip stew here. I wouldn’t be imposing?”

He waved to the seat across from his. “Not at all.” He waited for her to sit down and order, taking off his gloves before grabbing the pint in front of him. As she settled in the seat, he realized how little he knew about Harding aside from her being from the area. Easy to speak to, she was always attentive to others but shared little of herself, fading quickly into the background. He suspected it was a useful skill in her work for Sister Nightingale.

“So,” she said, “finally decided to make the trip to South Reach to visit your family, huh.”

He grinned, knowing where she was headed but he was curious to see how she’d approach it. “I am.” He took a long sip of his drink.

“I heard rumours of a mystery woman.”

He waited for the serving boy to drop off their meals and leave before answering. “Oh?” He took a bite of stew, savouring the deep earthy flavours from home for the first time in fifteen years. To her credit, she held off on asking for details, simply smiling back at him kindly as she ate in companionable silence. As simple as it was, the tactic was surprisingly effective. She was the first person he’d really spoken to in days and he found himself happy for the company. “And what do the rumours say?”

“Oh,” she giggled, “that depends on who you ask. You know me, I don’t spend enough time in one place to pay attention.”

“I fear it’s not quite as interesting as the rumours must be. A childhood friend from Honnleath resurfaced in South Reach.”

“We heard about Honnleath here in Redcliffe, but we were having our own issues at the time.”

“Everyone was. It wasn’t until the Circle was freed by the Hero of Ferelden that any news from the outside world began to filter back to Kinnloch Hold and by then, it was too late.” He looked at his stew for a moment, refusing to let the memories ruin his meal. “I shouldn’t be surprised that she survived, I suppose. She always was resourceful.”

“I take it she didn’t escape with your family or you would’ve heard from her before now.”

“No. I suppose I’ll find out when I see her.”

“She must have been a neighbour?”

He smiled at the dwarf’s persistence but thought it might be best to lay some truth to the rumours floating about Rowan. “She was. She was my best friend, just a year younger than I. We got into more trouble than I’d like to admit.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You?”

He shrugged with a grin. “We were all young once. She even saved my life from a bear we surprised by accident.”

“This, I have to hear.”

It was his turn to giggle. “I would have been what... eleven? No, twelve. My siblings were with us, for once, all of us trying to outrun the other and reach the tree grove first. It was down a hill and around a bend. I’d been outgrowing everyone that year, almost a head taller than my older sister, so my legs gave me an advantage. It also put me in the path of the bear before everyone else. I came face to face with the animal and startled it. I don’t recall much, but it must have swatted me. I found myself staring at the sky, pain everywhere, and everyone behind me screaming.”

He shook his head at the memory. “The bear came back into my field of vision and I remember thinking I was going to die. My legs wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t speak. I’d never been so terrified in my life. Then a rock hit the bear in the snout, and another in the eye. It growled. I still remember the vibrations in my chest but its attention shifted somewhere behind me. Rowan ran up closer to it, off away from me, yelling and throwing rocks until it gave chase.

“She was small and agile, ‘a little stick of a girl’, mother used to call her. She taunted it, hiding behind trees, leading it away while my siblings ran home for help. Eventually, the bear tired and gave up. I had to lean on her to walk - I couldn’t put any weight on my left ankle for days. We were halfway home when our parents caught up, mine beside themselves. Rowan’s father didn’t say a word, but when they left us to head home, he ran his big hand over her hair. It was the only time I can recall him ever being affectionate towards her.”

Scout Harding wiped her mouth and pushed her empty bowl of stew. “Brave girl. The bears around these parts can be fierce. I hope I get to meet her some day.” She emptied her drink, standing up from her chair. “I won’t take up any more of your time, Commander. Thank you for the meal, and the story.”

He watched her leave, wondering how much of this story would make its way to Skyhold in its original form. Although he preferred his private life remain such, he’d known well enough that rumours were going to spawn regarding this trip - he might as well have a little fun with it. He paid for his meal and headed up to his room to clean up from his travels and get some rest.


	6. Uncle Cull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen arrives at Mia’s home in South Reach.

Cullen had been given a direct location for his sister’s homestead before leaving Skyhold, and he knew the next bend in the road would bring him within sight of the house. He shifted in his saddle uncomfortably. He knew the visit would go over well. His siblings were not vindictive people. He would get his fair share of berating from his sister for going so long without coming to see them, but he was certain it would wane quickly. No, it wasn’t their ire that worried him. He’d been away from them so long, he wasn’t sure what they’d think of him, or how much to tell them from his past. What good could come of telling them about Kinloch Hold? Or even Kirkwall? Perhaps they would be more interested in his recent past with the Inquisition and he could focus on happier times.

He spotted the cottage in the distance, his eyesight sharp enough to notice the front door opening to let out a silhouette. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought it must be Mia from her stance and height. She waved at him and he returned the gesture, nudging his horse to a trot lest she decide to walk over to meet him. He’d given a message for her to Scout Harding the morning he left Redcliffe, letting her know when to expect him if the roads and weather were kind so he wasn’t surprised that she’d been waiting for him.

By the time he reached the home, Mia was practically bouncing up and down with excitement, her hands clasped tight in a praying gesture against her chest. He knew better than make her wait any further and dismounted, grateful that he’d thought to strap his armour to his saddle for the last leg of the trip when she threw her arms up around his neck to pull him into a hug. She cried against his neck and he waited out the turmoil, happy to let her decide when to pull away. She did, though she didn’t let him go, clinging to his sleeves as she stared him up and down, finally slapping his chest with a growing smile. “Andraste’s Mercy, look at you! Cullen, I could kill you!”

He giggled as she gave him another brief hug, her hands ruffling his hair a little. “Mia. I’ve missed you.” She cried again at the words but pulled herself together with a head shake, her hands wiping away the tears.

“Rosalie and Branson will be here shortly for dinner, along with your nephew. Why don’t you put away your horse and get yourself cleaned up?” She pulled his bag from the back of the saddle. “I’ll take this to your room.” She waved him towards the barn and headed inside with his pack to keep her hands busy, he assumed. He led his horse to the barn where he untacked and brushed him thoroughly before letting him out into the pasture. He took his armour and hung it on a post, staring at the pieces for a good long while before heading into the house. He felt naked without it, exposed, but it would have been foolish to wear it around his family, free of duties or danger.

By the time he was cleaned up and somewhat settled in the spare room, the voices of his sister Rosalie and his brother Branson could be heard coming up to the door. When he stepped out of the room to greet them, it was all he could do to remain on his feet from the accolades, not to mention little Ciryl who squirmed out of his father’s arms only to demand that Uncle Cull pick him up instead. He was grateful for the distraction since Rosalie began to cry then, which reignited Mia’s own tears while he and Branson headed to the living room, listening to the chatter of the toddler in his arms as though the very fate of Ferelden might be at stake. Eventually, the emotions settled and the conversation turned to the past years. Cullen listened intently despite having heard most of the accounts through Mia’s letters before. He didn’t mind in the slightest, as a matter of fact, happy to hear their voices and see the joy in their eyes.

They asked him questions, but mostly about the more recent years, curious as they were about the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste, Corypheus and everything surrounding the monster. By the end of the evening, Ciryl snored against his chest, while they lounged in the living room with tea and cookies. Branson’s eyes shone whenever he looked at his son, but he could see the fatigue etching on his features as well. Finally, he liberated the Commander from his little burden quietly lest he wake him. Cullen stood and gave him a pat on the arm to wish him good night and Rosalie hugged him once more before following her brother to retire as well.

Mia picked up the plates, shooing him when he tried to help but he insisted, cleaning the dishes from dinner and their reunion with her while they chatted over the simple chore. There was something immensely freeing in such tasks and he realized he enjoyed her company more than he thought he would. “Rowan said she would be at the inn in South Reach. She refused to ‘be a bother’ and stay here, as she put it. I understand you’ll want to meet with her alone first, but if you’d like to bring her for dinner, I think it would be lovely to see both of you after all this time.” She smiled. “She’s changed, but you’ll recognize her, I know that much.”

“Thank you, Mia. I’ll be sure to extend the offer.” He found himself kissing her forehead, noting the tears that threatened in her eyes again as he stepped back. “Good night.” He slid his bedroom window open a touch before laying down. As he settled in to sleep, his mind relaxed for the first time in years. Perhaps once the Inquisition disbanded he might enjoy a simpler life. After all of his years serving one master or another, he found the thought of letting go tempting, though, as oblivion claimed him, a large part of himself warned him that such peace was meant for others.


	7. Sage and Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion in South Reach

He had breakfast with Mia before leaving for South Reach after tidying up and saddling up his horse again. He didn’t feel right leaving entirely without protection so he took his sword, but he elected to leave his armour behind. South Reach was safe enough, his sister had told him, and the journey was short enough from her home. As he neared the town, he wondered whether Rowan would recognize him, or he she. Was it possible they might have both changed so much? Mia had been confident he would know her, and surely she couldn’t look so different that he would mistake her for someone else?

He dismounted and paid the stable hand, letting him know he wasn’t certain when he would need his horse again before entering the inn. Once inside, he scanned the tables for her among the patrons. He was about to inquire with the bartender when his eyes caught hers. Her face had matured, of course, but he would have known the bright, animated stare anywhere, as well as the smile that grew until her entire mouthful of teeth shone in the morning light, and a dimple peaked on her cheek. As a boy, he used to think of her smile as ‘a little funny-looking’, and maybe even scary at times depending on her mood. Now, it made his breath catch in his throat.

She stood in a flurry, the chair toppling back onto the floor, and hurried up to him, stopping just short of tackling him in full. Perhaps she noticed the hesitation in his gaze, or perhaps she wasn’t sure what might be appropriate between them now that they’d been estranged for so long, but the hug he’d braced himself for didn’t come, to his own disappointment.

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” she said. “Please tell me it’s you.”

He smiled back, his hands finding her shoulders for balance. “Rowan.” At the sound of her name, her smile almost dropped as she choked back a sob. She slipped past his hands and threw her arms up and around his neck, clutching his shirt tight, her short, lithe frame pressing against his, stretched up to her tiptoes. His memories flashed to the last time he’d seen her and how she’d held onto him in much the same way and he found himself burrowing into her shoulder. His arms crossed over behind her back and he lifted her up off the floor.

She laughed as he set her down. “You’re even taller than I remember!” She moved away, shaking her head and wiping her cheeks. “Urgh, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.” She nodded toward a table where she’d apparently been sipping on some tea.

He rubbed the back of his neck before sitting down and she smiled at the familiar gesture. “I’d say you haven’t grown, but that’s not exactly true, is it.”

She snorted, covering up her mouth. “Look who’s talking. Sweet Maker, Cullen, this is very strange.” He sat in front of her and the innkeep dropped some tea in front of him. She stared at him intently, studying his features and he was relieved when her smile didn’t falter. For herself, if he had ever tried to imagine what she might look like as a woman, he wasn’t sure he would have guessed correctly. Her features had sharpened, matured. She still kept her hair short, though slightly longer than he remembered, her reddish blonde curls framing her face. Her freckles still lit up her nose and cheeks, a reflection of the specks of gold he remembered in her eyes. “Please say something.”

He realized he’d been staring in silence, a flush creeping onto his face as he cleared his throat. “I apologize. It’s just...as you said, this is strange. I don’t know where to start.”

“Your sister’s told me a little. She could hardly keep quiet after she saw me and stopped crying. She said you’re the Commander of the Inquisition forces. Of course I’ve heard much about it, though I’m not sure how much to trust word of mouth. Some of the tales sounded a little far fetched.”

He nodded. “I’m sure, but yes. Seeker Pentaghast offered me the position when I was still in Kirkwall, helping to rebuild.”

“I heard the stories of Meredith and Anders, and the Chantry of course. It couldn’t have been easy.”

“The order, the Chantry...” he stopped. He didn’t want to start here, he thought. He wanted to hear her story first. “What happened to you in Honnleath?”

She smirked. “Changing the subject, Rutherford?” He couldn’t help but grin back at the surname, waiting for her to answer. “Fine.” She sighed, pouting as she recalled the events. “Well, you know about the Blight, and I’m sure your sister told you how she escaped. By the time we saw the Darkspawn, the horde was already rampaging the countryside. We were cut off to the North. Going to Honnleath wasn’t possible. I dragged my sister out of the house and we ran. My father had injured himself a few years before and he could barely move from the porch to his bed most days. I imagine they found him inside, cursing me for a coward.”

She closed her eyes for a count before continuing. “We were seen, of course, and the creatures chased. I could feel them behind us, trying to reach to grab hold of our clothes they were so close. Then my sister tripped and fell.” She bit her lip, her jaw clenching for a moment, fighting to keep the emotion at bay. “The moment I felt her hand slip out, I knew she was dead. They had her before I could even think of screaming and I just kept running. I ran until I couldn’t feel my legs. My lungs had never burned so hard in my chest. I don’t even know when or how I lost them, but when I turned to look back, I was alone.”

“Where were you?”

She shrugged. “I had no idea. I thought I knew those woods like the back of my hands, but it’s different when you’re in a panic. It was night time, and I was completely lost. Worse, I didn’t know which way to go. If I went North, I might run into the horde again. If I went South, I would be getting further from help. I found a tree hollow and buried myself underneath leaves to hide and sleep until morning. Things didn’t improve with the dawn. I tried to head East, but I kept getting turned around. I was getting nowhere. After a few days, I was found by an Avvar Sky Watcher, somewhere near the Fallow Mire. I was half mad by then, hungry and sick from drinking bad water.”

Cullen’s eyebrows shot up. “Avvar? Chief Movran?”

Rowan’s surprise told him he’d guessed correctly. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Inquisition soldiers went missing in the Fallow Mire a few years ago. They were held prisoners by Movran’s son. The Inquisitor had to fight him to free them. When Movran... assaulted Skyhold with a goat, the Inquisitor exiled him and his clan to Tevinter.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve been with Movran’s clan this whole time?”

“Well, I didn’t go to Tevinter.” She snorted again, and he realized how much he’d missed the sound. “But, yes. The Avvar didn’t kill me or mistreat me any worse than my father. At first, I was barely more than a slave, but since the Sky Watcher who found me was held in a lot of respect, I was given a lot of freedom. Eventually, they taught me how to survive, their customs. I became a part of the clan. It wasn’t easy, and being smaller than everyone, even most children past the age of six, I had to do a lot of standing up for myself to earn my place, but Amund was a good man. After the Breach opened though, he left to find out more and I never saw him again.”

Cullen put down his tea. “He found the Inquisitor in the Fallow Mire when they were searching for our soldiers. After seeing him close a rift, he pledged himself to him. He’s been working for us.”

“At Skyhold?”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “If you’d like, you could come along when I return. He comes back between his assignments, there’s a good chance you would get to see him again.” He didn’t know whether she’d accept, but the thought of spending more time catching up with her appealed to him, even if it was only to meet up with an old friend of her own.

She searched his gaze for a moment before answering. “You would show me Skyhold?” He nodded. “I’d like that.” Her face fell. “I don’t have a horse.”

He waved off her concern. “Our horse master has a holding near Redcliffe. I’m certain we could get you a mount there, and my horse is more than capable of carrying both of us until then.”

She seemed to debate this for a few moments and he thought perhaps the idea of them riding in tandem might not be appropriate any longer. He’d offered without thinking, they’d ridden together more times than he could count, but they’d only been children. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she said finally.

“It’s no trouble. They send us new mounts regularly. You’d be doing us a favour riding a green horse through the mountains.” He grinned. “If you feel up to it, of course.”

She squinted mischievously at him, her nose crinkling up. “If you say so.” She looked around. “I’m feeling a little restless. Would you like to take a walk?” He nodded, following her outside into the street.

“Mia asked that I invite you for supper at her home, if you’re able.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

“Why didn’t you stay with her?”

“I didn’t want to impose. She has a lot on her plate between your brother and sister. She doesn’t need me to fuss over.” Though he suspected she knew better, he didn’t press the issue.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father and sister.”

“I was sorry to hear about your parents.”

“What was it like? Living with th...”

“Oh no, Rutherford,” she cut in. “It’s your turn now. Why did you leave the Templars? Not that I’m surprised considering what we heard over the past couple of years, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

He turned his gaze up to the sky, letting the sun warm his face for a moment before speaking. “I suppose it started in Kinloch Hold. As the Blight began in earnest, one of the mages tried to take over the circle in an uprising. Most of the Templars fled to the lower floors and locked down the tower, but a few of us were captured as we tried to fight our way back.” Her eyes watched him, a light furrow to her brow but she didn’t interrupt. “I was held for some time, weeks maybe, in a magical prison while they tortured me and killed my friends.”

She lay hand on his arm, her face pale as she listened. “Cullen, I didn’t realize... if this is too much, you don’t have to...”

He shook his head with a sigh. “It’s alright. Not many people know what happened. I never told my siblings though they suspect the situation was grave, I’m sure. Eventually, the Hero of Ferelden managed to take down Uldred and the abominations. The Circle was restored and things more or less returned to normal but I... I wasn’t the same. I was angry. Mistrustful. I couldn’t understand why more stringent measures weren’t taken so mages could never again seize control.”

He paused to give her a moment to absorb this, but she only stared ahead with a blank look on her face. “Eventually, my Knight-Commander offered me a transfer to Kirkwall. I thought I’d lost everyone. I took it and never looked back. In the beginning, I thought Meredith wise to be stern with her charges. But what began as such grew into madness before long. Kirkwall was a mess, mind you, she wasn’t wrong about everything, but in time, I could no longer support her. I stood with the Champion in the end, though much too late. By then, the mage Anders had blown up the Chantry, assassinating Grand Cleric Elthina in the process and sending Kirkwall into madness.”

They neared the edge of town but Rowan continued to walk, clearly disturbed by what she was hearing. “When Seeker Pentaghast offered me the position, I found I couldn’t justify remaining with the order any longer. I’d done what I could to help restore Kirkwall and keep the mages safe from retribution, but I didn’t want anything more to do with that life.” He tried to decipher her expression for a moment and he grew nervous faced by her silence. Despite her long absence from his life, he found that what she thought of him mattered, and he couldn’t fault her for being disappointed in him.

Finally, she stopped walking, her eyes fixed on the horizon. To his surprise, she said simply “I’m so sorry, Cullen.”

“For what?”

She shook her head, her expression falling and he realized she struggled to hold back tears. “Your dream. Everything you’d ever wanted for yourself. Destroyed. And not once, but twice...” She covered her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to control her emotions, but when she looked at him, her red-rimmed eyes shone regardless, and he could only stare back in silence. She appeared to struggle with a thought but shook it off. “Things are better now, right?”

He nodded, facing her in full, his hand reaching up behind his neck.

“What is it?”

“You’re not... I expected...”

“Spit it out, Rutherford.”

He laughed out loud despite himself. He’d heard this sentence countless times in their youths whenever he fumbled with his words from whatever embarrassment gripped him.

“Oh, he laughs! Good, I was beginning to wonder.”

“Not nearly often enough, I’ve been told.” He sighed, looking away now. “I thought you’d be disappointed.”

“Why? Because you left the Templars after everything that happened to you? Changing course isn’t a failure, Cullen, not when it’s needed. Besides, considering where you are now, I’d say you’ve done well for yourself, no?”

“I’m not so certain, at times, but thank you for saying so.”

She turned her gaze up to the sky to look for the sun. “I’d say if we’re going to make it in time for supper at Mia’s, we should get back to the inn so I can pack up.” She slid her arm through his elbow, pulling him along. “Thank you for telling me all of this.”

He eyed her from the side as they walked. “You seem troubled.”

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just trying to wrap my mind around everything.”

They returned to the inn and Rowan disappeared up to her room briefly. She returned with one pack, clearly of Avvar make, and rejoined with Cullen outside where he waited with his horse. She patted the animal on the neck gently, observing the animal with rapt attention. “This is a far cry from your old mare.”

He giggled. “That he is. Master Dennet breeds fine, sturdy horses. Perfect for the Inquisition’s needs.” He nodded to the saddle. “Go on. Or do you need a lift?”

She laughed as she tied her pack to the tack. She took hold of the horn, facing him and hopped up, swinging her leg over the horse’s back in one swift movement. She sat as forward as she could to make room for him. He jumped up behind her and she lifted herself up and forward to give him enough room, settling back down once he was secure. He signalled the mount forward and they departed. She was slight enough to fit fairly comfortably in front of him, but it was a tight fit. The gait of the animal swung their hips left and right, their backs following along and he was keenly aware of her small frame against his chest.

After some time riding in silence, he noticed her head drooping forward and he realized she’d fallen asleep. For a moment he was torn about whether to wake her when her weight began to shift dangerously forward. He wrapped his arm across her chest and over her shoulder to hold her up but she didn’t stir. Her head dropped back against him, her curls tickling his chin, the light scent of sage and honey filling his nostrils. In the end, he couldn’t bear the thought of rousing her. How tired must she have been to fall asleep so quickly and soundly while riding? He supposed he would find out eventually.


	8. The Birds and the Bees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Rowan depart South Reach.

As they neared Mia’s cottage, he cleared his throat begrudgingly. Her head snapped up, her body twitching awake and he released her once he knew she wouldn’t fall. “Oh, shit,” she said. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?” She covered her face with her hand, embarrassed.

He giggled to ease the moment. “Did you sleep well?”

She nudged him with her elbow. “You should have woken me up, but yes, as a matter of fact, I did.” She turned just enough for him to catch her winking at him. He pulled the horse to a halt as Mia came out to greet them. They hopped off and his sister took Rowan’s pack and led her inside, leaving him to tend to his horse.

He caught up to them chattering away in the kitchen, Rowan sipping on a glass of wine while Mia finished preparing the evening meal. In good time, Branson, his son and Rosalie arrived and the discussion moved to the table. Cyril was enamoured with Rowan, sitting with her at the table and demanding to be fed and told Avvar stories. She shared the tales of Korth and the Lady of the Skies with the little one perched on her lap as he listened to every word in wonder. 

Cullen observed them from the door after helping Mia tidy up when his sister crept up to him to watch the scene with a self-satisfied grin. “What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing. It’s just nice to have everyone here. I wish mom and dad could be with us.”

“So do I.”

She watched him for a moment, debating her next question. “You’ll ride back to South Reach with her tomorrow?”

“No. I’ve invited her to Skyhold. It seems one of her Avvar clan has been working for the Inquisition.”

“Oh? So you’ll have company for the way back. I’m glad. It’s such a long way.” She patted his shoulder and headed into the living room to partake in the company again. He stayed behind for a time longer, taking in the sight of his family and friend, all together again in the same room, grown and happy. If there had been a reason for him to persevere and fight during his days with the Inquisition, this was surely it.

****

The following morning when he awoke, he found the door to Rowan’s room open, her pack already waiting by the door. He found her outside, brushing his horse, humming to him quietly in the rising dawn. The stallion looked relaxed, his eyes half shut, clearly enjoying the attention, even tilting his head to her for an ear scratch whenever she reached up with her hand. 

“You’ll spoil him beyond use.” He walked up to them with a grin. He noticed she wore a set of leathers and rough fabrics such as he’d seen on other Avvar, though of lighter make. She’d been wearing Fereldan attire the previous day, likely to blend in and avoid questions while in South Reach, he imagined. Now, however, she was ready for travels.

“Pfft! He has a long ride with two of us until Redcliffe. The least I can do is be thankful.”

Cullen grabbed the horse’s nose bridge, looking him straight in the eye. “Remember who you answer to.”

She giggled but continued to brush the fur into a dark sheen. “What’s his name?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Boy?”

She burst out laughing, patting the horse in commiseration. “Well, I’ll think of something for you on the way.” Seemingly pleased at the prospect, the animal tossed his head.

“Have you been up long?”

She shrugged. “I don’t sleep much. I didn’t want to wake either of you, so I thought I’d make myself useful.”

“Mia is awake. You know she’ll want to have breakfast before we leave. I hope you’re hungry.”

Her nose crinkled up into a predatory grin. “Always.”

She followed him back inside and they spent their last meal in South Reach with Mia, listening to her stories. As they rode off, Rowan promised to watch over her brother with a laugh. As long as they were within her eyesight, she remained on the porch to watch them. Cullen imagined she made it back inside eventually, picturing her writing her next letter to him, which would likely be waiting for him at Skyhold when they arrived.

Before long, Rowan’s head began to droop and he giggled quietly as he had to hold her up again. He’d have to ask her about this eventually, but for now, he continued to ride, enjoying the sunny morning and countryside.

She startled awake sometime before the noon hour. It took her a moment to realize where she was but then she elbowed him in the ribs. “Cullen! Don’t let me sleep like this. Sweet Maker, this is embarrassing!”

He laughed. “You seem to need it.”

“Let’s stop here and give the horse a rest.” He halted and she hopped off, stretching to shake the cobwebs and rubbing her hands over her face. She grabbed some dried meat from her pack and threw him a slice before chewing on a piece. “Sleep isn’t easy for me... at least, not usually.”

“The nightmares?”

He’d said it before he could think to stop himself. She looked surprised at first, then blushed, but she nodded. “You remembered. Just one of those things I never outgrew, I guess.” She took a long sip of water, looking at the sky for a guess at the time. “It’s been a long time since I slept this long of a stretch, to be honest.”

“You barely slept more than a few hours,” he said, somewhat incredulous. She nodded, matter-of-factly, chewing on her dried meat. “How can you function with such sporadic rest?”

She shrugged. “I do alright. Some nights are better than others. I suppose I should be more grateful to you.” Absent-mindedly, she walked over to a nearby tree and plucked something from the ground. An elfroot plant, he realized as she strode back to her pack to retrieve a leather envelope from it depths. Carefully, she folded the herb into the package and tucked it back into her bag.

“Elfroot. You and Inquisitor Adaar will get along.”

“Oh?”

“His fascination with it has become a bit of a source of hilarity among the troops.”

“Why? There are so many applications, even beyond the healing potions. I always make sure I have plenty on hand.”

“If you ever head on a field trip with him, you’ll understand it’s more of an obsession,” he chuckled. “Did the Avvar teach you how to make potions?”

She nodded. “I’m no alchemist, mind you, but I dabble enough to stay alive.” She hopped back up on the horse, the break apparently over and Cullen did the same. They spent the afternoon chatting about the past few years, with Cullen going into more details for her on the Inquisition and what had transpired before and after Haven. For herself, she told him that she’d been wandering the Frostbacks since Movran and the clan had left, unsure where she belonged any longer. It was only recently that she’d decided to return to Ferelden lands proper and by pure accident had she run into Mia at the market in South Reach, whilst looking for a specific herb that she couldn’t pick in these parts.

By the time night fell and they found a spot to camp, the sun had sunk below the horizon and the chill in the air made them gather for a fire. She had the flames lit in no time, a testament to her time in the wilderness, her fingers callused and strong, he noticed. She looked up at him while she built up the blaze, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “So, is there anyone special in your life? Your sister didn’t say.”

Though he was startled by the question, he managed to answer without too much embarrassment beyond a light flush to his cheeks. “No. My work has been taking all of my time.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You mean no one... _ever_?”

“What? No! Just, I uh, nothing serious or recent.”

She let out a relieved chuckle. “Oh. So, no little ones running about then?”

“Maker’s Breath, no!”

She snorted a laugh, throwing her head back. “Cullen, I do hope I don’t need to explain to you about the birds and the bees? Just because you’re not married doesn’t mean you can’t have children.”

“I know how they,” he covered his eyes, “I mean that I’m certain I’d know if I did. Andraste have mercy, as though I needed something more to worry over.” She laughed again, entirely too pleased at his discomfort and he could only shake his head. “What about you?”

“Neither. The Avvar feared too much that I might bear them runts, you see.” Cullen choked on his water and his reaction brought on more of her wild laughter. She pointed at him. “You were with the Templars too long.” She shrugged and took a long look at the darkened sky. “Why don’t you get some sleep. I won’t be tired for some time after my nap this morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go on.” She waved him off before standing and walking off to do a perimeter check, or so he assumed.

He set out his bedroll and lay down, his head on his arm folded underneath him, eyes staring up at the stars. He had to admit that travelling with someone else had advantages. Sleeping was less of a hazard, for one, and the company was pleasant. Pushing aside the thoughts of his possible illegitimate children - not that there could be all that many, but still - his eyes grew heavier and heavier until finally, darkness claimed him.


	9. Of Blood Lotus and Tallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Rowan find trouble on the road.

He awoke to a hand on his shoulder and it took him a moment to remember he was travelling with Rowan. She looked out into the woods with a frown, her demeanour tense. “I heard something. I think we’re surrounded. Get ready.” He sprung to action, noticing she’d brought his sword and shield to his side before waking him. For herself, she held two long daggers in a steady grip as her eyes scanned the edge of their vision. Listening intently for noise, he strapped his chest plate back on in a hurry, hoping they wouldn’t take that as their chance to strike.

Moments after he managed to fasten it, he heard the telltale whistle of an arrow off to his right. Rowan was already on the move, heading into the trees for the archer at a run while he searched for a target. He thought to call her back but rustling behind him turned his attention away from her and he faced an oncoming warrior mid charge. He braced himself, planting his feet in the ground, repressing the urge to grin at the sight of his opponent throwing everything he had into the manoeuvre. At the last moment, he pushed himself forward and into his guard, swinging his own shield out hard. He caught the attacker in the ribs, feeling the armour beneath dent with the shock as the man was flung to the ground, stunned and gasping for breath. His own blade swung down past his gorget, burying itself into the soft tissue of the throat, taking one foe out of the equation.

He took a look around just in time to see two rogues vanishing, headed straight for him. No sign of Rowan, but the sounds of a scuffle in the woods told him she had troubles of her own. He needed to get the two out of stealth and into view or they would find a weak point to strike. A glint caught his attention and he charged in that direction. One of the rogues narrowly dodged his shield, coming out of the shadows and he engaged him. Agile and quick-footed, they made for challenging opponents despite their lighter armour. This one was no exception, and had a fair amount of skill to boot, though Cullen proved to be more of a challenge than he’d anticipated by the look of it.

Just as he managed to land a blow along the ribcage of his new opponent, the gleam of a dagger flashed in his peripheral vision from the second rogue. He twisted his torso wide and shoved his elbow into a woman’s face, her nose exploding in a fountain of blood, and she staggered back. A hand swung around her throat and swiped across, Rowan’s dagger leaving a dark trail in its wake. He turned back toward the final opponent just as she kicked the body away from herself.

The bandit backed away, his eyes darting left to right for confirmation that the rest of his band had been decimated and he now faced two fully armed opponents. Before he could fling his powder and disappear, however, Rowan threw a dagger at him, forcing him to dodge. She slid forward, one of her legs swinging out to trip him and brought down her remaining weapon into his exposed midsection, pulling it back toward her in a vicious slice that opened him wide. Cullen sheathed his sword, looking about the battle. “Are you alright?”

She retrieved her dagger and slipped it back into its place at her waist, nodding. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear them sooner. You aren’t hurt, are you?”

He shook his head, looking at the dying bandit while Rowan searched him for valuables in a manner so casual he was taken aback. “I see you learned a few tricks since I left Honnleath.”

She smiled at him, her expression intense and wild from the fight still. “I was always good with a knife, remember?” She shrugged. “Turns out butchering animals isn’t all that different to killing people. At first, the Avvar didn’t want me anywhere near weapons, but when they realized I could skin, cut and prepare meat, they put me to work with their butcher.” She pocketed some valuables before standing up and searching the other bodies. “He and I didn’t get along. The morning after he gave me a black eye for trying to show him how to better skin a ram, he woke upside down, strung up to the rafters like one of the animals, naked as the Maker made him.”

“However did you manage to hoist him up?”

She snorted a laugh at the memory but there was anger in her eyes. “Rope and pulleys, some blood lotus tea and a lot of tallow. Movran showed up eventually, with Amund. I didn’t care if they killed me for it. I wasn’t a child anymore and I was done getting tossed around. They laughed so hard I thought they were going to piss themselves. Movran told me to do whatever I wanted with him. If he was fool enough to get himself caught and strung up by a lowlander, he wasn’t worth his place in the clan. After that, I ran the butchering for the hold. Eventually, I was even taken on hunts, taught how to fight, shoot a bow. It was like I’d always been one of them.”

“What happened to the butcher?”

“I told him if he could free himself I wouldn’t stop him.” She waved nonchalantly. “He couldn’t. I took him down and tossed him for the birds before he began to stink up the shop.” She walked up to him, apparently finished scrounging for valuables as he watched her, speechless. “We should probably move on from here.”

He rolled up his bedroll while she saddled the horse in silence. Though he wasn’t surprised that she’d learned to fight for herself, there was a coldness behind it that he’d never associated with her before. She’d been hardened. He knew she wasn’t entirely changed, however, but the reality of it made him melancholic all the same. He hopped up in the saddle behind her and they set off. After some time, he realized she’d yet to sleep. “You haven’t slept, Rowan.”

She turned her head a little so her voice would carry to him without speaking too loud in the the night. “I’ll be alright, at least until the sun rises. After that, well,” she winked, “just wake me up if I fall asleep. You can take first watch tonight.”

“We should be able to reach an Inquisition camp before nightfall. It’ll be safer than sleeping on our own and both of us can get some rest, though tents will be limited.”

“Tents? Fancy,” she giggled. “It sounds like a good idea. Handy being the Commander of the Inquisition.”

“It does have some benefits.”

“Do you get to travel much?”

“Not as much as you might think. The Inquisitor does, for the most part, but we are expected to attend certain events outside of Skyhold at times.”

“You don’t sound like you enjoy that part.”

“Nobility and soirees is not my area of expertise.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind the food.”

“You’d be surprised. Somehow, they managed to make the ham at the Winter Palace taste like despair. I didn’t dare try dessert after that.” She laughed, the sound bringing a smile to his face and reminding him that she hadn’t completely changed. Even on her darkest days, he could find a way to make her laugh, though most of the time he didn’t do it on purpose.

“Is Orlais beautiful as I think it is?”

“If you mean on the surface, I suppose. Val Royaux is almost blinding in white and gold, but it’s difficult to appreciate it. Or at least it was for me, knowing what lies beneath. They parade beauty and wealth, but underneath it all, the cruelty and machinations are what rules them. It’s a nest of vipers.”

“Hm.” She sat quietly for several moments, pondering this. “You’ve seen so much, Cullen. I know not all of it was good, but I can’t believe how much the young farmer from Honnleath has seen. It’s amazing, really.”

“The Inquisition could always use more people. You seem quite capable.”

She snorted, her hand hiding her nose in that familiar gesture. “Are you trying recruit me already, Rutherford?”

“Is that so terrible? You would get to travel, and there are far worse ways to earn a living than restoring order.”

“I thought order had already been restored with that Coryphenis-thing dead.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Corypheus,” he corrected, reminding himself to keep an eye on Sera once they returned to Skyhold. The two together might be trouble. “There’s always something more,” he sighed.

“Well, we’ll see.”

The sun rose, higher and higher as the morning went and they continued to ride toward Redcliffe and the Inquisition camp. By mid morning, Rowan’s posture began to droop and he cognized the telltale sign of her falling asleep. The road was quiet and the weather clement. He could wake her when they stopped for lunch, and he didn’t think she’d elbow him in the ribs now he wore his armour again. He wondered if she would actually consider joining the Inquisitions ranks. He knew Leliana would be interested in more scouts, especially one with such knowledge of the Frostbacks and Fallow Mire as she must have garnered in her time with the Avvar. For himself, now that they’d reunited, he found it difficult to accept that she might just leave to disappear again once she visited Skyhold. The thought that their friendship might have a long term future... made him happy. He supposed he would find out soon enough.


End file.
